


Don't Bleed On My Floor

by Demi_Idiot



Category: Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Injury, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ratchet just wants to help people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demi_Idiot/pseuds/Demi_Idiot
Summary: Inspired by @londonprophecy's post on Tumblr regarding their No War AU idea. I threw this up on the post as an addition and figured I'd put it here too. For a one-shot it came with a lot of backstory.Link to the post I found here. https://mapelie.tumblr.com/post/625448164148887552/no-war-au-where-drift-is-a-hella-rich-and-falls
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55





	Don't Bleed On My Floor

“Hey Ratch’,”

Ratchet didn’t look up but waved Drift in, making sure to throw in a heavy sigh for good measure.

“Get in here before you bleed all over my new floor.”

 _“Your_ new floor? If memory serves, I bought it.”

“Maybe you did, but it’s in _my_ clinic and I use it more than you do.”

Ratchet grabbed a few tools he knew he’d need and turned to assess the extent of Drift’s injuries. The slag-eating grin that both irritated him and did funny things to his spark was firmly in place, despite the mess of hastily welded patches on Drift’s left side and bent final. Regardless of who owned the floor, Drift was not about to bleed all over it - which was a quiet relief.

Drift cocked his helm to the side, and the crooked final looked funnier than it should have been. “You’ve been waiting for me,”

Ratchet scoffed. “The whole fragging incident was televised you idiot; of course I knew you were coming. Now sit and let me see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

There was no missing how the speedster’s optics brightened, or how gingerly he eased himself onto the medical berth. A few scans later and Ratchet was scowling in earnest.

“In case you were wondering,” he gritted out, “you are not bomb proof.”

Drift had the good graces to look chagrined. “I didn’t know it was a bomb,”

Ratchet had to take a deep vent and bite his glossa. No, Drift wouldn’t have known it was a bomb, he was just doing his job by running Optimus and Megatron’s security detail. He’d done what he was trained to do - take out a threat. Only this time the threat was primed with explosives, and Ratchet had seen enough before the feed had been cut off to know there wasn’t much left of the bomber. 

But he wouldn’t be the infamous medic he was if his anger and fear for his friends didn’t find a constructive outlet somewhere.

“You should have let Pharma take care of you. Slag kid, what if there was still shrapnel floating around your internals when you transformed?”

It was Drift’s turn to scoff. “You know he’s better than that.”

Ratchet took Drift’s bent final between index finger and thumb, pulling just enough to make Drift yelp and really look at him.

“Exactly. So _why_ in Primus’ name didn’t you let him do his job?”

Drift’s face fell and Ratchet silently cursed himself. He couldn’t stand that unguarded look in those amber optics because the truth was right there, and if he wasn’t careful it would bring him crumbling down. He let go of Drift’s helm and went to work, seeking some kind of normality in the now-awkward silence. 

Ratchet lost himself in the flow of repairs, not stopping until every new weld was buffed smooth and paint was applied to cover the bare patches until Drift’s nanites and enamel replenished themselves. With no more to do, Ratchet sorted tools for sterilization and cleaning as Drift carefully stood, rubbing at his straightened but still tender final.

“Look Ratch-”

“Don’t.” Ratchet blurted out before he could stop himself. “I really don’t wanna argue about that today.”

Drift’s field curled with irritation. “I do.”

The medic spun, engine growling. “We’ve had this conversation! _Optimus_ and I have had this conversation! The answer is still no. If anyone’s suited for the CMO position, it’s Pharma.”

“Pharma’s an arrogant piece of slag.”

“That may be so, but there’s nothing I have that he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrong.” Drift snapped. “You have more empathy and care for others in your little finger than he has in his entire frame!”

Ratchet was taken aback, both by the sudden surge of Drift’s field and the vehemence in his tone.

_Pharma, you glitch, what’d you say this time?_

Drift calmed himself down and stepped forward, just enough to put his hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “You could do so much good as the CMO Ratch. What are you afraid of?”

Normally Ratchet’s response to being accused of being afraid of anything involved a large wrench, but this time the flash of anger didn’t come.

“I do good things here, Drift. I can actually help mecha that need it.”

Drift’s optics softened. “Like me,”

“Yeah, like you.”

He turned and Drift’s hand slipped from his shoulder. The medbay seemed to gleam before his optics, new equipment and tools waiting for the next injured mech to come stumbling in so he could give them the chance no one else would. Ratchet knew that was why Drift insisted in pouring his credits into this small clinic, because he’d been that mech and he’d taken that chance.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Ratchet asked, “I know I don’t say it cause that would ruin my reputation, but seeing you turn your life around and become successful in a world that didn’t want you to...it’s worth more to me than being the CMO. I took the oath to help mecha, not sit in some shiny tower in an office that’s entirely too big and play political games.”

When Ratchet turned back Drift was smiling, and even covered in scratches and fresh welds he was beautiful. It made Ratchet’s spark lurch, but any further conversation was interrupted by Drift’s comm going off.

“Ah slag, I gotta get back to debrief. Look, I may not be able to change your mind, but could I at least buy you dinner? After you get off work? I won’t even bring Optimus with me.”

He shouldn’t, really, but it was getting harder and harder to tell Drift no, and Ratchet worried it was going to bite him in the aft someday.

“I...sure, why not? And Optimus can come, I don’t see enough of the big lug anymore since he became the Prime anyway.”

Drift beamed, and that lurch was back slaggit. “Comm me when you’re done?”

“Sure kid, whatever you say.”


End file.
